Just to Be Near You
by My Personal Rose
Summary: Brittana. Spoilers from Valentine's Day, onwards. A mix of Santana's thoughts and feelings towards her blonde, how she tries to cope her own way... and whether she has the strength to try and win her over.
1. Giving Up

A/N: Okay, so this fic takes place after/during the Valentine's Day episode (2.12) and will continue, in the chapters that follow, to contain spoilers for future episodes. So try to stay up to date with the episodes if you want to get what I'm ranting about.

Anyway, this is my first real attempt at a Brittana story, so be a little gentle on me. The song is this is by Anna Nalick. If you don't know who she is then look her up. She's wonderful.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Valentine's Day.

In Santana's opinion it was the suckiest day of the year. Not that she'd ever tell anyone that. She'd never admit _why _she hated it. Instead she just bitched at all the couples, and tried to do as much damage as possible.

Told them this V-Day crap was corny, and annoying. Tell every couple she passed to get a freaking room.

But, feelings aside, she was more than a little pissed when Mr Schue had asked everyone in the group to do a love song. He'd called everyone up, asking them what song they thought represented love the most.

Puck had offended the girl he liked, and she'd been more than a little shocked when she realised who he was singing it to.

Artie had done P.Y.T, and kind of rocked it, she had to admit. Mike showing his feelings through the medium of dance instead. Not that she'd complained.

Tina had given a performance that was almost painful to watch, breaking down in the middle of the stupid song- apparently overwhelmed with love.

Rachel had frankly killed Katy Perry's Firework. In the good way. Even Santana couldn't find a fault in it, and you can trust that she'd tried her hardest. In fact she'd gotten really into it, much to her horror.

Brittany had been hard for her to watch. Not that it wasn't a great show… just… watching her sing 'Love Fool' to Artie, and dancing with him during P.Y.T had not made her day any better.

Sam serenaded Quinn with a ballad she'd forgotten to listen to, his strangely huge mouth ending up as too much of a distraction for her.

Quinn and Finn had both gone home soon after that, with Mono, proving her suspicions right. They were definitely cheating.

For some reason this made her even more furious. She wasn't sure why. She'd cheated plenty of times herself, of course- hence why she could spot one from a mile away. But Quinn had a good thing going with Sam, and Finn could have had practically any girl in this school at the moment. Cheating was even less necessary than usual.

"So if that's everyone's songs-"

Santana's head shot up at Mr Schue's words. "Hey!" She called before she could stop herself.

"Oh, sorry Santana. I didn't realise you had something for us." His confusion was obvious, along with the rest of the groups.

Santana let out a sigh, and rolled her eyes. "Just because I think Valentine's Day is a load of bull, doesn't mean I don't have an opinion on love."

"Do you even know the meaning of the word?" Mercedes muttered behind her, and Santana spun around.

"Shut it, wheezy, I know more about it than you." She snarled, and Will held up his hands.

"Hey, cool it. Why don't you come up here and show us, then?" He asked in his calmest voice, hoping to ease the tension.

Santana sat in her seat for a moment, frozen. She hadn't actually _planned_ anything. "Sure, whatever." She sighed, and strode over to the side of the room, where the instruments were laying. She picked up Puck's guitar, and the jock stood up, ready to come up and play for her. "Cool it, Puck." Santana slung the strap over her shoulder, gesturing to the stool by Mr Schue so he'd move it into the middle of the room. "I got this."

She sat on the stool, moving the guitar until she was comfortable with it, and taking the pick out of the pocket on the strap.

Santana took a moment to breathe, to compose herself, and try and remember the notes of the song- though she knew she didn't need to remind herself, she played it all the time. "I got this." Her voice was no louder than a whisper, and started to strum the slow, harmonic notes on the guitar.

"Driving away from the wreck of the day  
And the light's always red in the rear-view,  
Desperately close to a coffin of hope  
I'd cheat destiny just to be near you,"

She looked up for a moment, meeting Brittany's eyes for a split second before looking back at the guitar.

"If this is giving up, then I'm giving up.  
If this is giving up, then I'm giving up, giving up  
On love, On love…"

She took in a breath, and strummed a little harder, her voice losing it's quiver.

"Driving away from the wreck of the day  
And I'm thinking 'bout calling on Jesus…"

She looked back up, hearing a voice harmonize with her own. Brittany stared back, her lips no longer moving, but Santana knew who'd sung. She, closed her eyes, no longer having to focus on the guitar as she got louder, refusing to look at _her_ during the next line.

"'Cause love doesn't hurt so I know I'm not falling in love  
I'm just falling to pieces…  
And if this is giving up then I'm giving up  
If this is giving up then I'm giving up, giving up  
On love, On love…"

Santana strummed out the slightly faster instrumental, her eyes snapping open as she scanned the club, wondering what they were thinking as she belted out the words.

"And maybe I'm not up for being a victim of love!  
When all my resistance will never be distance enough…"

She felt her eyes brim a little as she used her voice as a second instrument, her focus more on controlling her emotions before she slowed the tempo almost to a halt once more.

"Driving away from the wreck of the day  
And it's finally quiet in my head…"

She heard the waver in her voice, and looked down at the guitar again, head down, eyes almost closed, focusing on playing.

"Driving alone, yeh, I'm finally on my way home to the comfort of my bed  
And if this is giving up, I'm giving up…  
If this is giving up, then I'm giving up, giving up  
On love, On love..."

Her voice fades on the last note, and she knows someone will notice the way it kind of broke towards the end.

The clapping starts slowly, and she notices, looking up, that Rachel Berry of all people began it. She sees the brunette giving her what seems to be a genuine smile as the rest of the group join in with the gentle cheer.

"That was really nice, Santana." Mr Schue says, giving her a nod. She couldn't help the blush that rose to her cheeks, and looked around the room as she went to put Puck's guitar back on it's stand.

Most of them have some kind of a half smile on their faces, not sure whether to look happy or sad. But one of them just looks _so _upset. Like someone ran over her diary reading cat.

"Is that everyone, then?" Mr Schue asks one more time, and this time everyone nods in agreement. "Okay, then we're done for the day. See you tomorrow guys." He flashes them all a smile, and goes to the piano, picking up all of the sheet music scattered across it. Santana moves to go past him, following as Brittany starts walking quickly towards the door, but Mr Schue grabs her arm, a little surprised when she flinches away from him, flashing him a slightly desperate look. It softens almost instantly when she meets him in the eye.

"Santana, I just wanted to ask…" He's cut off by the shake of her head.

"No, por favor." She mutters beneath her breath, and he nods once more.

"Ok, then. But I'm around if you need me." He leaves with one final wave to the room, which is slowly emptying of people.

By the time Santana is free of Schuester she looks around, and her heart kind of sinks. Brittany's gone, with Artie she assumes. She keeps looking for a few minutes though, scanning the whole room, and the faces of everyone in it as they walk out of the door. Her shoulders kind of drop as she realizes she's alone.

"That was for her, right?"

Santana almost jumps out of her skin, her hand quickly reaching to cover her racing heart. "Jesus, Berry. I thought you'd left." She rolls her eyes  
"I wanted to tell you…" Rachel takes in a breath, offering Santana a smile that she doesn't receive back. "That song was really beautiful."

All the ex-cheerleader can do is tuck her hair back behind her ear, for some reason a little unsure of what to say.

Then she realizes. It's the first time anyone – Berry especially – has ever directly complimented a song of hers. Then again, most of her songs are either duets or have a lot of attitude to go with them.

She knows she should probably thank Rachel. But of course, she doesn't.

"Well of course. We all know I'm talented." She turns away from the tiny brunette, seeing her bag sitting on the floor on the other side of the room. As she walks she hears Rachel following her, and turns back. "Something else to say, midge?"

Rachel shrugs. "Just that I thought the display of emotion was especially touching. And that… I'm sorry."

Santana freezes, half way bent to pick up her bag. She recovers in seconds, but knows the pause won't go unnoticed.

"Sorry?" The Latina parrots, and Rachel nods.

"For saying that you'd only work on a pole. You're very talented. I know you can sing, and I've seen you dance. And while I'm a little unclear on what makes a good cheerleader, you certainly seem to be good at that too." The diva rambled for a moment, and Santana almost smiled, but caught it in time. Which is good, because she doesn't really feel like smiling today. Because today sucks.

"It's no big deal." Santana shrugs. "I've said enough to you over the years."

Rachel blinks, because she knows that's the closest thing she's ever going to get to an apology for Santana's relentless bullying.

"That was no excuse. Fire with fire just means everyone gets burned." Rachel swallows. "And it was harsh."

All Santana can do is shrug. Because she doesn't know whether to agree and accept the apology. Not when she has a doubt, somewhere in her gut. Something that's telling her that maybe that is all she's worth.

A warm body. Entertainment.

"Maybe you're right." She whispered the words, so quietly that she's not sure that Rachel heard it for a moment. "Maybe that's all I'll ever be."

"I don't believe that for a second." Rachel bit her lip gently, her brow creasing in concern.

"Really? Because you sounded pretty sure earlier today." Her voice is bitter, almost a growl.

"That was before I saw you. The real you." Rachel smiled, and stepped closer, daring to place her hand on Santana's shoulder. "The Santana I saw in Glee today wasn't the girl that taunts everyone. She wasn't the girl that has almost too much attitude. She was just a girl, with an… amazing, soulful voice that sent a chill through my spine. She was in love, and hiding it abysmally. And it was the most beautiful thing I've heard and seen in a long time." Rachel lifted her hand off of Santana's shoulder, and it hovered by the Latina's face for a hesitant moment before Rachel wiped away the drying tear streak on her cheek. "Now, _that_ girl could go far. And I don't think she'd give up that easily."

Santana stared at her, and for a moment they seemed to hold a sort of understanding. Rachel's hand moved away from her cheek after a moment, almost like a flinch.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Santana." Rachel cleared her throat as she made to leave, offering the Latina one last, quick smile before she left. Santana returned it, slightly dimmer, but still visible.

"Bye, freak." Santana rolled her eyes, and looked back down to the sheet music in her hands.

_And I'm giving up, giving up… on love…_

The sheets were screwed into a tight ball, and thrown with near-perfect aim towards the bin as Santana walked out of the choir room, a fresh smirk on her face.


	2. Wreck of the Day

A/N: Just a very quickly written drabble of words. Because… I had to do something after the last episode that I watched.

A word of warning, don't read unless you're ready for a few spoilers about episode 15 of season 2, aka 'Sexy'.

And yes, this IS in a different point of view from the first chapter. I might jump around a little like that until I find my sealegs with this particular couple. So…

_Santana's POV_

-x-x-x-x-x-

Damn her.

Damn Miss Holiday. Damn her sessions on sex education (like I needed those) and damn her little counselling sessions. I don't like to label things, and she tried asking me to do just that.

Though I did like that one thing she said, about how it's not who you're attracted to that counts, but who you fall in love with. Because then I had my answer.

And my song choice.

But damn Artie. He's so… helpless that I think she feels a little compelled towards him, like she can't break up with him because he's in a wheelchair. As far as I'm concerned that means I can't push him over, or smack him in the face. But emotionally, I can be hurt just as much as he can. Okay, so I know I don't show it.

It's not really my thing, this talking about feelings that she loves to do. Though I'm starting to wonder- if I'd talked about my feelings from the start, if I hadn't been so damn afraid of them… then would we be together?

My head is spinning, and I have to stop, finally not running anymore as I lean against the wall of the girl's locker room, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. Tears are still falling down my face, and I wipe at my cheeks, a little angry. How much have I cried lately? And I know what it comes down to. We were fine until we were in this stupid little Glee club. Singing about feelings all the time… I think it's making me soft.

I told her I _love_ her. That I'm in love with her.

Damn her.

Damn her for not seeing what's right in front of her, for not realising what she means to me. Damn her blonde hair, framing her face in a way that makes my heart tighten every time I see her. Damn those baby blues, and the way they stare into me when she's wondering what I'm thinking- like today, during our Stevie Nicks impression… I could see the moment that she'd kind of figured it out.

And damn her for choosing him.

I know, it's stupid, and probably a little mean. I'm actually considering threatening Artie, or beating him up or something. Thing is, I know I'd never do it- not even because of my moral high code or whatever. But I can't hurt her like that. I think I've hurt her enough… don't you?

"Santana?" I don't look up, not daring to as I hear my name echo through the locker room. "Santana, I know you're in here." My hope fades a little as I start to recognise the voice.

Damn her for not coming after me.

I try to stop the smallest sob escaping my throat, but it makes enough noise for footsteps to start heading towards me. I cough, trying to cover up the obvious cause for the noise.

"Santana-" Berry stops, her eyes widening a little when she spots me. I can tell, my eyes are probably underlined with red, and my cheeks might be a little blotchy. But I know there's no way to hide that I've been crying. "I was worried about this."

"Can it, Streisand." I snap, my tongue lashing with it's hardest tone, but the poorest of insults. "I really don't want to hear anything you have to say right now."

"No, I suppose you don't." Rachel takes a step back, and turns around. She looks over her shoulder her face full of some kind of sympathy. "I just thought you could use a… some company."

I sniff. "It does suck to be alone."

"Tell me about it." Rachel breathes out, turning back on her heel, and facing me again. "Is this about… I mean…" She takes in a deep breath, and I raise my eyebrow at her, in a kind of challenge. "I know I was out of line pointing it out in front of everyone yesterday, but I was right, wasn't I?"

I blink, a little surprised that she didn't back down. Maybe her spine is growing back.

I shrug, and then I nod. I can't see a point in lying to her about it. Not right now anyway. "And I don't know what to do about it."

"Have you tried telling her?" Rachel's voice gets quieter, but she takes another step closer.

"Too little, too late." I sniff again. "She's with Artie. She loves him." I almost choke on the words. "I don't know what…" I close my eyes, and fresh tears roll down my cheeks. A pair of hands fall on my shoulders, and I feel Berry's thumbs rubbing small circles on the skin of my neck. It's so soothing that I think I just want to curl up into this moment, and avoid ever having to face Brittany again. After this… after all of this… "What do I do, Rachel?" I whisper, and I feel the movement on my neck stop for a moment. I realise she's a little stunned that I called her by her first name.

"You distance yourself." She says, and I open my eyes in time to see her shrug. "You take yourself out of the situation, and hope that it hurts less, with time."

"Time?" I repeat the word, no louder than a breath.

"At least you still have Sam."

I shake my head. "I don't want him… I want…" I stop, and force myself to look up, and meet Berry's eyes. "I want her."

"Sounds a little like the reason I joined the celibacy club." Rachel chuckles, pulling away from me, and heading a few steps towards the door. "Which I'm late for." She hesitates, and I almost laugh. I almost ask her, bluntly, if she really thinks that I can go to celibacy club. If I can survive without a 'warm body' underneath me.

And the answer is… it's not worth it. It's not worth finding the warm body and sleeping with them if it's not Brittany's. Because if it's not her, then I don't care if I can't digest my food. I don't even care if I eat.

If it's not Brittany I'm with, then I don't care about much.

And so, I don't say a word. I just follow Rachel into the celibacy club, trying not to watch with envious eyes as Artie holds Brittany's hand in his own, in public- with no fear of anyone saying anything.

And though it kills me, I feel a little better when I see her smile at something he says.

Damn her. Just… damn her.


	3. My Way of Dealing

**A/N: Okay, so**** to make up for those two short and kind of mediocre chapters, here's one that's probably too long. But I think I've found my train of thought now, and I'm pretty sure where it's going.**

**This is where it stops being totally canon, and I start to take it into my own little place. It will probably go a little off of the show now too. Especially when it comes to Santana/Sam. Eew.**

**Anyway, so enjoy… and if you're waiting for me to update a different story of mine then don't hate me for getting distracted. I've been told I'm like a puppy with ADHD. But I can't write for a story unless I'm feeling it… and I do keep going back to old ones. So I promise I'll finish at some point. Bear with me.**

xoxoxox

I lay back on my bed, watching my ceiling. I'm shaking a little, but I don't know how to stop. I'm not even crying anymore- thank God- but my body won't rest. It's like it's filled with nervous energy and I can't find the off switch.

In fact, I can't even bring myself to care.

This is one of those moments, where normally I would go online, find some kind of site dedicated to people who fail at life and generally screw up a lot. I'd read their FML's and 'my life sucks because' and smile, because I know that their life is worse than mine. I'd know that whatever I was trying to deal with would be a lot easier than whatever they were going through. But right now, I don't want to see if I've been trumped by a stranger. I don't want to read about the things that are going on in the world, because I know I'd have to hit something. Those people with their petty lives and their stupid little problems when my head feels like this…

I hear the house phone ring, and ignore it. I know my mom will pick it up, so I could really care less.

But then I hear footsteps, coming up the stairs, and I freeze, listening.

"Sure honey, she's just in her bedroom." My mom says in her sweetest voice, and I can tell exactly who she's talking to.

"Santana-" My mom opens the door to my room, and I move quickly, my finger falling on my lips as I shake my head. "Sorry, Brittany, I thought she was in…. Yeah, she must have stepped out, you know she forgets to tell me sometimes. Alright, call back then… Sure, I'll tell her. Okay then, bye." My mother puts down the cordless phone, and turns to face me fully, her eyebrow raised.

"What?" I shrug, laying back on the bed again.

"You know I don't like lying to Brittany, honey." She moves to sit on the bed. "So tell me, what was that about?" I don't answer, and so she tries to push a little further. "Did you two have a fight?"

"Just… I really don't want to talk about it." I turn, laying on my side to face away from her. It doesn't stop me from hearing her voice- I can tell she's frowning.

"Fine, but if you won't talk to me, then I can't help."

I sit up quickly, and move to my wardrobe. I grab a few things, like my leather jacket, and a different top.

"Where are you going?" My mom asks.

"Out, like you said." I shrug. I hear her sigh, and turn to her, hoping my eyes look pleading enough. "Please, I just need to… clear my head." Then I almost jump, knowing how to get her to let me leave. "Maybe see Sam."

"Oh, right of course. You know, it's so nice that you have a boyfriend." Mom starts to ramble, and I turn back to my closet so I can roll my eyes. "It's been so long since you've had one."

"I know." I almost whisper. For once, a surge of guilt seems to hit my chest. Within a moment I brush it off, trying to forget the way I'm leading him on, after breaking him up from Q. I don't say another word, just give her a kiss, grab my purse off the side, and walk out.

-x-x-x-x-x-

I turn on my phone as soon as I step outside. Four missed calls from Brittany. I get in my car as my breath catches in my chest, and then I remember that I'm supposed to be trying to get over her. This has to be it, a new start. Well, that or break up her and Wheels. It shouldn't be too hard to do, and it wouldn't just benefit me.

Britt doesn't seem to notice, but he's a patronising douchebag. It kills me sometimes, to see the way he talks to her, like she's stupid. She's not. Brittany just thinks differently from everyone else. But once you get her, once you take the time to know her, she's actually got a lot to say. Britt just… likes things explained clearly.

I shake my head, and a tear falls. I wipe it away quickly, and put my foot down. My car roars a little as it speeds up, and within ten minutes I'm at Sam's. I get out of the car and almost jog up the driveway, tapping the doorbell impatiently, eager to see someone that isn't her.

He opens the door, and I can clearly see the surprise on his face.

"Oh, hey." He mumbles, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"Bad time?" I raise my eyebrow at him, a little challenging, though my heart beats quickly in my chest as I run over my list of options of other things to do.

"No, not at all, my parents just went out." He shrugs, and steps aside to let me past.

I nod in approval, and follow him in silence as we head up to his bedroom.

"So, what's-" He's silenced as I place my lips over his… frankly huge ones. He's tense, almost frozen. His hands stay still at his side, and yet I keep on kissing him.

After a moment he starts to kiss back. He opens his insanely huge mouth, and tries to push his tongue into my mouth. This wouldn't usually bother me, we've done it before and I've done it with a _lot_ of other people, but I turn my head away, exposing my neck to him instead.

I don't make eye contact, or even look at him as my fingers run underneath his shirt, his lips sloppy against my neck. I pull up his top, and he raises his arms. It's off of him in a moment, and he starts to slip off my jacket. I shrug it off quickly, along with the top I'm wearing to reveal my black bra, and start walking backwards towards his bed. Then I freeze. He isn't following me.

Sam is standing there, half naked, watching me with a funny look on his face. It's an ironic kind of smile… like he's about to do something that he knows will hurt.

"We can't do this." He says, plainly. I frown.

"Sure we can. Trust me, I've done it before..."

"You and me." Sam interrupts me, his eyes scanning my body. I fold my arms, suddenly feeling a lot less comfortable with myself. "I can't do this."

My eyes blink of their own accord, my mouth falling slightly open. "You're breaking up with me?"

He has the decency to look away, nodding slightly. "Santana…"

"We haven't even been dating a week!" My voice raises slightly, and Sam looks up at me, his eyes large and puppy like. "Where do you get off on this?"

"I don't. I just don't like being lied to." He shrugs. I open my mouth to protest, but the look on his face makes me fall silent for some reason. It's then I know. "And I think you know what I'm talking about, even though you've been lying to yourself as well. But we both know who you belong with."

I shake my head, partially in disbelief. The rest is… denial, maybe. "No, you're wrong. Sam, I want to…" I take a breath. Try to force the words out. "I can be with you." I can't figure out who I'm trying to convince more- him, or myself.

"But you won't love me."

My mouth moves, and I want to deny it. The words try to form, but no sound comes out of my mouth. I probably look like a guppy.

"This is ridiculous." I mutter, grabbing my top and practically throwing it on again. "You don't even know what you're saying…"

"That you shouldn't be with me."

"Don't you get it?" I round on him, holding my jacket tightly in my hand. "I can't be with _them_ because _they're_ taken. _They'd_ rather stay with someone else than be with me... so I'm dealing with that."

"This is hardly dealing, San." Sam offers me a little half smile, and I put on my jacket as I turn away from him.

"It's _my _way of dealing."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Option two is Puck's. I drive the three blocks to his house, and ring his doorbell as impatiently as I rang Sam's. His mom opens the door, and so I put on my sweetest parent friendly smile.

"Hey, Mrs. Puckerman is Noah home?"

"Of course, darling. Come on in." She smiles at me, stepping aside to let me into the house. "He'll be glad to see you. You haven't been around in a while."

"No. I've been a little busy." I shrug, and throw her a little wave. "Nice to see you, Mrs. P." I smile once more, and head to Puck's room.

I don't knock, and regret it pretty much instantly. Puck and Sisces making out on his bed, his hands out of my sight. An image I really, really didn't need to see.

"Santana!" He shouts, and I close my eyes, feeling for the door frame to steady myself against it.

"I'm sorry, your mom didn't tell me you had company." I growl, and Puck gets up quickly, moving me further into his room and closing the door behind me.

"Knocking take too much brain power, Lopez?" Lauren shoots at me, and I snarl in reply.

"I don't even know why you're here." Puck says, moving a little closer back to his bed. "You know I can't have sex with you anymore. I've got my girl now, and I intend to keep her." He smirks, with a sense of pride, crossing his arms defiantly.

"Oh, get over yourself." I roll my eyes, and see Lauren's interest peaked. Maybe she won't mind me if I'm not after her guy. "I don't want sex, I have Sam-" I frown. "Whatever, I'm just trying to score some booze."

"Oh, right. That I can help with." He smiles at me, and goes to his sock drawer. Puck pulls out a box, and thumbs through some cards that are sitting in it. "Here. This is the one I scored you a couple of weeks ago."

"And you're just giving it to me now?" I raise my eyebrow.

"If you've got a twenty."

I sigh, but hand him the money, and check out the picture on the front. It actually does look quite a bit like me. Or what I could look like in two or so years.

"Thanks." I mumble, then start to walk out.

"Hey!" I spin on my heal, facing Lauren as she stands up. "You drinking alone, Lopez?"

I shrug. "What's it to you?"

"Just saying, you could drink in company." I can tell she's trying to be nice. And I kind of appreciate it… but…

"I'd rather be alone tonight." I offer them a sad looking half smile, and they both return it in kindness. "But thanks anyway."

-x-x-x-x-x-

The I.D gets me into this loud club, which reeks of alcohol. I don't like stepping on the floor, my feet sticking to it with every step I take. I hate to think how many layers of dried, sticky drink there are between me and the actual floor. But I could really care less. It's the kind of place where they glance at your I.D, but only because they have to. The picture on mine could be Quinn's or Puck's and they probably wouldn't even notice.

I go back to the bar. A little bit of sweat on my face from the dancing I've been doing. I hear whistle from behind me, and smirk. It's nice to know I haven't really lost my touch. Just Britt and Sam are delusional if they think they can get better than this. I down another shot, and start on my beer, chugging a good half of it to calm my thirst.

I feel my phone go off, and take it out of my jeans pocket to glance at the caller I.D. _My Bestfriend's Hot_ by the Dollyrots blares from the speaker. Well, I should have known. I ignore Brittany, putting the phone back into my pocket, the ringtone mostly muffled by my jeans and the music that surrounds me. It's a song that I can hardly identify because the bass is so loud, beating repeatedly. It feels a little like it's pounding my body, my heart and head shaking from the sound of it.

"Hey!" I hear a guy shout over the noise next to me, and turn to face him. "Can I buy you a drink?"

I wordlessly look down at my beer, and finish the rest of it quickly. "Sure." I half-yell back. "If you can dance." My words are bolder than I feel. He's older than me by more than a couple of years, obviously old enough to be here. But he's still a boy, and I know how to deal with them. He grins at me, and so I take his hand.

I lead him behind me, swaying my hips as I walk, and I can feel his eyes on my ass. See? Boys can't help but be a little pervy, in my opinion. I raise my hands above my head, listening to the song as much as I can bear to. I like the music, but it's so loud, and kind of trance like, the way it echoes around your body, draws you in to the beat.

The lights flash around us, and I have a bit of a hard time keeping an eye on the guy. His hands are on my waist, and he pulls me closer to him, my back against his body as he grinds against me, whispering things into my ear that I can't even make out. Doesn't he realise how loud this place is?

We… dance for a while, until my head starts to spin, and I feel like it's time for another drink. The bar's almost empty for the first time all night. People seem to really like the song that's on, and so the drinks come pretty quickly. I order a Jäger bomb, but I don't drop it and down it like most people. I pour the shot into my glass, watching as the Red Bull and Jägermeister mix with each other. They swirl, the colours changing as the liquid seems to curl and intertwine. That's when it first starts to occur to me that I'm probably a little drunk. Because of how much this fascinates me. Knocking someone else's drink over them on the way over to the bar should probably have been the first clue.

"You alright?" The guy asks, and I nod, taking a sip from my drink. "You wanna find somewhere a little quieter?" For some reason I nod, downing my drink, thinking it tastes a little like gummy cola bottles, and follow him. I stagger slightly, and notice the grip he's got on my hand was probably the only thing that kept me from hitting the floor. It's like the alcohol has suddenly caught up with me, filling my head with a light, giddy sensation. I can barely remember by own name, let alone think about _her_.

We head towards the stairs, to where you can go up to the toilets, and a corridor that I think leads to a staff room of some kind. He leans me against the wall, and smirks at me as he moves closer. My heart beats fast in my chest as my head runs through every reason I should and yet shouldn't be doing this. Before I can say a word his lips are on mine. He kisses me with a force I haven't felt for a while, controlling and powerful.

It catches me by surprise, and I get into it. For once it's nice to be controlled, even as his hands run up my back and then down to my ass, pulling me against him as his tongue pushes it's way into my mouth. His fingers dig into my skin, and I can feel his nails as one of his hands runs up my back again, digging into the soft flesh like he's trying to claw his way into it-

"_My best friend's hot, my best friend's hot, no matter what I do, won't love me-"_

I pull away sharply, my phone humming loudly against my leg. I see the disappointment in his face, and flinch as he moves towards me again.

"What?" He asks, and I shake my head. His grip tightens, and my stomach starts to ache.

"I can't do this… I don't want to be like this anymore…" I murmur, the words spilling out of my mouth in an ungraceful slur. "I'm sorry, I just…"

"Save it." He growls, pushing me back against the wall. My bare shoulders graze the rough brick as I slide down it a little, and he walks away. "Find someone that actually gives a shit."

The words hit me harder than they probably should, a pain hitting my chest as I slip the rest of the way down the wall. A sob escapes me, and I clutch my chest as my phone starts to sing again, the buzz seeming louder than it ever has before. I can feel the music from downstairs throbbing against my mind, and my phone is making it worse. I take it out, pressing the answer button as soon as it comes free of my pocket.

"Britt?" I ask, my breath a little shaky as I try to pull myself together.

"Santana? Are you okay?" I hear her voice get a little higher, peaked with worry. "San?"

"I'm tired…" I sniffle down the phone, unable to keep my composure. "And my back hurts… I think I'm going to go home soon." My words slur together a little, and my head spins.

"San? You're crying. Have you been drinking?" She asks, and I don't answer. "Your mom said you were out, but I thought she was lying." I smile at how perceptive she can be, sometimes. "Where are you?"

I laugh. It's loud, and a little inappropriate, because I can't figure out why she'd care. "It doesn't matter Britt. I just want you not to call me… because when you call me I want to answer, and if I talk to you then… well, it went great the last time!" Some of the words run together, but I'm sure Brittany can still pick up on the sarcasm in my voice.

"San, last time was-" I cut her off. I can't bear to hear her say whatever she was going to say.

"Nothing, I know. And now I'm going to go… because this conversations going to get awkward soon. And I hate awkward. It's so…" I struggle to come up with the right word. "Awkward."

"Santana, please, where are you?" Her voice melts my heart a little, the way she seems to care so much.

"Waiting for you." I mumble into the phone, and then manage to press one of the stupid buttons with my ear. I stare at my phone for a few minutes, feeling a little betrayed by it. It stays in my hand, silent, and still, and I start to think that I should leave.

I run through the night, trying to remember where I parked my car, but the memory slips by me. First things first is convincing my legs to work.

They don't seem to want to respond easily, and in the end don't move at all. Well, that was a waste of time.

My phone rings again, and I don't recognise the number. I answer it anyway, a whole lot of tiredness starting to set in. "Who's this?"

"A friend." Comes the voice, calmly. I don't recognise it. "Where are you?"

"Outside a toilet." I shrug.

"Where is the toilet, Santana?" She asks, and I shrug again, wondering who she is and how she knows my name.

"Upstairs…" I say, like it's so obvious. She gives a fraction of an exasperated laugh, but recovers, her voice moving back to serious.

"No, like the place. Are you in a bar, a club? Someone's house?"

"A club." I swallow, and look around. I really want another drink.

"Can you tell me the club's name?" She asks, and for a minute I wonder if I'm still talking to Brittany… but no. I'd know her voice.

"Why do you wanna know?"

"Because…" A pause. "Because I want to know if it's one I should avoid or not?"

"Oh… it's called Fish something, like a bowl…"

"Tank? Like the Fish Tank?"

I nod, even though she can't see me, but that doesn't really occur to me. "It's not very nice though… though the drinks are cheap… but it's a lil' dirty…"

"Okay, stay there, okay?"

"I was gonna go home. My car is-"

"No, don't go home. Not yet, okay?" She asks, and for some reason I nod. I don't ask why, but I trust her.

"Okay then, I won't. Bye." I hang up before she can say another word, and start to head down to the bar, happy that my legs seem to be working again. I sit down on a stool, and signal to the bartender. I hand him a few dollars, and he brings me my drink. No words need to be said. He places it in front of me, his hand still grasping it tightly.

"I have a feeling I should cut you off." He gives me a look, like he's trying to figure something out about me. Though I could really care less. "But I also think you don't do this a lot."

"I don't." I shrug, honestly. "Not like this."

He stares at me for a long moment before nodding, and letting go of my beer. "Forget it while you can, sweet cheeks."

I grimace at the name, but nod, grateful. Of course I think about what I'm meant to be forgetting, and feel the tears come to my eyes. "Shit." I mumble, wiping at my eyes. I take a long drink from the beer, and sigh, my head swimming.

"Santana." I hear someone say beside me, and I turn. I see Mr Schue, and frown. Probably the person I was least expecting to meet here. But then I smile.

"Hey, Mr Schue!" I give him a lazy grin, and turn to him, not really noticing the serious look on his face. "I think you and me need to dance… you're actually a little cute." I reach forward to grab his tie, and he places his hand over mine, stopping me from going any further. "Dance with me." I growl a little, and he shakes his head.

"I'm not here to dance with you, Santana." Mr Schue says, and I feel the smile drop from my face. "I'm here to take you home." He says, kind of quietly. It takes me a moment for the words to sink in.

"Someone told you I was here." The words come out a little spiteful, and I try to push him away, whilst getting up from the barstool. "Who told you?"

He shakes his head, and holds my arm, probably the only thing keeping me upright. "Come on. I'll take you home."

"I don't want to go home." I mumble, and he nods.

"Fine, let's go outside then."

I follow him, his hand still on my arm as we exit the club. He leans me against a wall, and I feel a little uncomfortable with the familiarity of the situation. I've already done this once tonight, and I wait impatiently for him to start pawing at me. Because that's what I'm here for, right?

He doesn't touch me, just goes from staring at me to staring at the floor, like he can't figure out where he wants to look. I look down at myself for a moment, and see my top is hanging half open, and my skirt had been pushed up… earlier. I hadn't even noticed.

"You're not going to… try something?" I ask, my voice weak, and he looks up sharply.

"What? Of course not." He frowns, checking his phone. "Not to say that you're not… you know, but you're a student." I appreciate the attempt, and chuckle, swaying slightly to the right. "I don't even know how you got them to serve you." He sighs, and goes back to watching me. "What are you doing here Santana?"

"Drinking." I giggle, because it's obvious, and he shakes his head.

"You signed a pledge. Why are you breaking it, Santana? Why now?" Mr Schue's eyes stay on me, steady, and I feel my chest tighten as I suddenly feel a lot more serious.

"To forget…" I mumble, and he raises his eyebrow.

"To forget what?" He asks, and I look away from him. "You know what, Santana, you can ignore your problems as much as you like, but they won't just go away."

I almost crumple, feeling the tears spring to my eyes, and then the wall seems to move away from me or something, because I stumble, and almost fall. I'm caught by two sets of arms, Mr Schue's and… someone else's.

"I was hoping she wouldn't be this bad." I hear the voice I was talking to earlier, and look up. Berry… "We need to get her home."

"My mum can't see me like this…" I half-sob, turning my head into the midget's chest as my weight gets moved back onto my feet. They're trying to stand me up, but my legs don't want to help a lot.

"I can't take her to mine. It's against the law." Mrs Schue shrugs. "I think."

"Even in situations like this?" Rachel asks, her pitch rising.

"Especially in situations like this."

"Then where can we take her because-"

-x-x-x-x-x-

I think I blacked out some time after that. The next thing I remember is waking up, with a wicked urge to throw up, and no idea where the nearest toilet was. Though there was a conveniently placed bin, sitting right next to where I'd been sleeping. I grab it, and spend the next few minutes retching into it, until my stomach feels a little more settled… and empty. I take a breath, the muscles in my stomach and chest are aching, and I put down the bin carefully.

The room is dark, but I can tell the walls are a light colour. Maybe a cream or a yellow? I look around, trying to figure out where I am… I spot a 'Wicked' poster, and an 'Annie' one. An elliptical sits in one corner, a poster with the word 'Regionals' sits in front of it, surrounded by tiny gold stars.

I groan. I know _exactly_ who this room belongs to.

I lay back down, onto the bed, my head spinning like crazy, and look to the side. It's then I see Rachel's eyes, wide and shining in the pale light that's coming through her window.

"How are you feeling?" She asks, her voice a whisper, and I turn onto my side to face her.

"Kind of crappy." Comes my honest reply, and she nods. "Look, I'm sorry…"

"Don't worry about it." Rachel cuts me off, and I hesitate before nodding my head, grateful. "Why don't you go back to sleep? There's still a couple more hours before we have to get up for school."

For some reason I think of school, and I feel… weepy. Damnit. I've still got alcohol in my system, obviously. Rachel just reaches over, placing her hand over where mine rests on the bed, and gives me a tiny smile. I drift off surprisingly quickly. Usually it takes me a long time to sleep at someone else's house. But then, usually I can't relax either.

-x-x-x-x-x-

When I wake up it's to the sound of raised voices. I can tell they're trying to be quiet, but there's a passion behind them that's hard to keep to a whisper.

"What was I supposed to do? Leave her out on the streets?" That's Rachel.

"You should have woken us up! How dare you sneak out in the middle of the night to a _club_… what if something had happened to you?" A male voice, worried yet majorly pissed off.

"I was with a teacher the entire time." Rachel sighs, exasperated. "I… I guess I wasn't thinking clearly. She's someone that I actually consider a friend, and I was worried."

"And that's something that I love about you, Rach." He says again. I decide it has to be one of her dad's, but I don't know which one. "It's nice that you have a friend. But waking up a teacher and… and…"

"We were given his permission. He wanted to make sure that if any of us drank then we'd have a safe way to get home. So it seemed very appropriate."

"Well then, why didn't he take her home instead of bringing her here?"

"Daddy, you'd probably go a little crazy if I came home… like she'd been last night. She didn't want to face her mom."

I sit up as I continue to listen to them, and look down at myself. At some point Rachel must have helped me change into this little nighty. It's pink, and probably the girliest I've ever looked in my life. It actually makes me smile.

"Don't be ridiculous, Rachel. You would _never _get like that…"

"And you shouldn't be so neive!" Rachel actually raises her voice at him, and there's a long silence, like she's stunned him a little. "You have no idea what's going on with her at the moment… I don't know all of it, myself. But if it was happening to me, and I looked old enough to buy alcohol, then yes, I think that could just as easily have been me."

There's more silence, and I can't take it any longer. I slip out of the bed, and open the bedroom door, finding the arguing pair in the hallway.

"I'm sorry." My voice is a little croaky, and I clear it before trying to speak again. "I really am. This isn't something I would… normally do."

Her daddy just nods to himself, thinking, and so I decide that we need a little chat. I think he thinks so too, considering the way he's looking at me.

"Rachel, please can I have something to eat? I think I need to settle my stomach before school." I give her a little smile, and she nods.

"Of course." She looks over her shoulder as she walks away, giving her father a warning look.

As soon as she's out of sight, I turn to him, playing with my hands.

"I really am sorry." I meet his eyes. "I never thought she'd come and get me. I didn't even call her… I don't even know how she knew I was out." Then it occurs to me… Brittany. Of course… "But it means a lot to me, that she came to find me. I'd driven to the club, and in that state I probably wouldn't have been thinking straight… I probably would have tried to drive." I clear my throat once more, and look down. "I was already being pretty stupid. But I'd bet a lot of money that if Rachel hadn't intervened… then I'd probably be in hospital right now."

He clears his throat, and I stay silent, waiting for him to say something. After a long moment I look up, and see him frowning at me with dark, concerned eyes.

"I know she did a good thing." He says, quietly. "I do. I just don't like that we didn't find out about it until this morning." I watch as he bites his lip, something obviously troubling him.

"Mr Berry?"

"Do you really think she… would she…?" Rachel's daddy stutters over the words, and I know he's trying to ask if she'd get that wasted without offending me.

"Not without a good reason." I shake my head, gently. "But if she does, I'll be there to take her home."

He nods, a little reassured I think, and then turns to look at me again, studying me.

"You're welcome here, Santana. Anytime you need to get away from the world…" He trails off, and I give him a nod of appreciation.

I doubt I'll ever take him up on the offer. I hope I'll never have to. Maybe I can just move on from this, put the past behind me. Put her behind me.

God knows I'll try.

Mr Berry walks away, and I head back into Rachel's room, one hand holding my head. There's a deep throbbing sensation in my temple. The pain isn't too bad, but I can't seem to shake its presence.

"Santana?" Rachel calls from the other side of the door. I grunt in response for her to come in, and she does, a tray in her hands. "I bought you some toast and juice. Will that settle your stomach?"

"A little." I give her a small smile, breaking off a tiny bit of toast and popping it into my mouth.

There's silence for a long moment, but it's not too uncomfortable. That surprises me. When did we reach 'comfortable'? Or at least 'not awkward'.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks after a while, her voice almost a whisper.

I shrug, not quite sure what to say. "Nothing to talk about."

"That's crap, Santana." Rachel sighs, and I blink at her a little in surprise. I don't think I've heard her swear before.

"Pfft," I scoff. "Since when did I talk crap?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't know, when did you learn to talk?" She replies in the same tone, and I chuckle quietly.

"I just get so sick, you know. Of seeing them together." I look down at the toast in my hands, knowing I don't have to clarify who.

"Yeah, I can tell. You're not the most subtle person when it comes to unrequited love."

I flinch a little at the word 'unrequited'. "She said she loved me." I tell her, and Rachel's eyes widened.

"You didn't tell me that. When?"

"Right before she told me she loved Wheels too." I roll my eyes, and Rachel nods, deep in thought.

"Are you still going to date Sam?"

I shrug, then my eyes widen as I remember last night. "Oh God."

"What is it?" Rachel asks, a look of panic fluttering across her face. "Do you need to vomit again? Do you need an aspirin?"

"No, I just… I went and saw Sam last night." I close my eyes, and rub at my temple. "Shit. I think we broke up."

"You think?" Rachel frowns. "You're not sure?"

"I didn't hang around for very long after he started talking about it. He freaked me out, telling me how I belonged with someone else… how I could never love him." I open my eyes when I hear Rachel let out a small giggle. I glare, and she goes quiet, shrugging.

"Well, he's right. I just never had him down as the intuitive type." She gives me a look, tilting her head slightly. "Do you _want_ to stay with Sam?"

I give her another glare, getting off of the bed as quickly as I can manage. "You know what I want."

She nods, just once, then walks over to her closet. "You want your girl. And for that, you'll need a plan."

I give her a cynical look, and cross my arms. "A plan?"

"The best way to get through to a guy… or a girl is jealousy. If she loves you then she won't want you with anybody else."

"So… carry on dating Sam?"

"Yes, for now. Though I suspect she knows you don't really like him." Rachel turns to confirm the fact, and I nod. "Then you'll have to think of someone new to date, someone that she knows you have the potential to like." She says matter of factly, and I almost laugh at the look on her face. She's so deep in thought… it's obvious she has a plan brewing.

xxxx


End file.
